Slow Burn
by favilla
Summary: Eventual Roy/Ed, Hawkeye/Winry. As Ed and Winry's marriage begins to unravel, Roy becomes even more deeply drawn into politics, and Riza discovers her own calling. Post manga.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Takes place 6 years after the end of the manga, so it'll probably be a bit AU once the manga wraps up, depending on how Arakawa decides to finish things. Everything is fair game for mention, though, so spoiler warning up to chapter 96. My first try at Roy/Ed! And my first ever Winry! So needless to say, there will probably be some more editing on this later, since I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters, which is difficult what with the whole six years in the future thing. So let me know what you think, please! This is definitely a work in progress. :)_

* * *

It wasn't, Edward concluded over a fresh pint in a backlit bar, that he was unhappy.

He could never be unhappy, for God's sake, not with Al whole again. Even if Ed were to awaken one day, chained to a concrete slab, deprived of every human dignity, and beaten on an hourly basis, he would still be content. His life's work, his penultimate achievement, had already been attained at the age of sixteen, and he'd helped save the country, to boot.

No, he was content, and he was fairly certain that Winry was, as well...although they haven't seen much of each other recently. She had been very busy with her automail shop, and he had been consulting with anyone who would need an alchemical expert; his latest client was Poole Construction, and he was fetching a fine sum.

Enough to raise a family, his annoying flea of a grandmother-in-law had suggested repeatedly.

He frowned into his glass. He was twenty-three, married, and it should not be out of the question that he start a family...and yet.

_(She nibbles on the bottom of her lip, her blue eyes wide and studying the hotel ceiling. She is perched precariously on the bed, and as awkward as the entire situation has become, Ed can't help but chuckle to himself._

_She scowls for a moment, and Ed can't help but look around for potential tools of destruction, but then she shuts her eyes and smiles wanly. He holds out his arms and she accepts his embrace with a soft sigh._

_"Well, shit," he mutters into her hair._

_She shakes her head and laughs, but he feels something wet against her lashes. "Some wedding night, huh," she chokes out.__)_

"You come here often?"

A tired line, of course, but the wry note of self-awareness in the young man's speech pried a slight lip twitch from Ed.

It's not like he was there for the conversation, anyway.

"You asked me that last week," he replied easily. "And the week before."

"Mm." The brunet man smiled. "And yet you still don't remember my name, do you?"

"Yeah, yeah." Ed absently twirled around his wedding ring. "What is it this week?"

The man replied, but Ed couldn't quite catch it because his brain exploded.

He made some half-assed excuse – he never had been much with manners, even if he had managed to tone down his abrasiveness over the years – and walked like a man possessed towards the VIP lounge.

He'd heard rumors about the room, of course, since he'd begun to frequent the establishment. Those that entered paid well for the bar's discretion, and they didn't just let anyone walk inside.

The first time he'd entered the bar, the bartender had assumed he wanted to go inside, but Ed had never been one for pomp and circumstance. Besides, he'd never been one to be upset by gossip.

He hesitated, and the bare-chested bouncer raised a laconic eyebrow. "Finally decided to upgrade?"

His eyes could have been playing tricks on him. It had only been a hot second, out of the corner of his eye...

Ed shoved a crumpled tip into the man's disconcertingly large hands, and ignored the man's leer with a snarl. "Open the fucking door already." He swallowed, then absently added, "Please."

"Such a dirty mouth," the bouncer taunted, but the door opened and Ed mindlessly stepped inside.

No, his eyes were still as finely tuned as ever. He strolled casually behind the older man, who was busy chatting up some blond, skinny thing, and cleared his throat.

"Hello, Colonel."

He wasn't a colonel anymore, of course. He was...well. He had always been a man of contradictions, at least superficially. After years of scheming and plotting and political maneuvering, he ascended to the role of fuhrer for exactly seventeen days, after which national elections were held and he abdicated his position to the popularly elected Olivier Armstrong.

After which, upon trials held at his urging, he had served five years in prison for his role in the extermination of the Ishval people. He had obviously expected at least exile or execution, but he spent his time in prison well, writing articles and shaping the views of his nascent political party.

He had been a free man for one year, and a member of parliament for eight months.

"Fullmetal," the man allowed with a cautious smile. "You've grown. A bit."

He had grown, damn it, and more than a bit, but Ed refused to be baited. "The gray in your hair looks very distinguished. Is that how you conned your constituents into voting for a felon?"

Mustang didn't have a strand of gray hair, and he knew it. "I imagine they voted for me because I promised to provide affordable housing, improved roads, and an overhaul of our education system. Speaking of which, you're consulting with Poole on several projects we've commissioned."

"Still keeping tabs on me, huh?"

Mustang smiled dazzlingly, and Ed hated to admit how fuzzy brained it made him, especially when he realized it was aimed over his shoulder at the bartender, who practically sprinted towards the older man. "Would you care for a drink, Fullmetal? On me, of course. I'm eager to hear how my projects are progressing from a reliable source, not just the company spokesperson...Could I have another glass, Mario, and my friend will have...?"

Ed shook his head. "I've really got to be going. Winry's waiting up for me..."

Mustang narrowed his eyes. "Ah, yes, of course. How is married life, Edward?"

Ed stiffened a bit. "I could ask the same of you."

"So you heard!"

"The entire country heard, you bastard!" The news of the country's savior turned prisoner turned parliamentary candidate's nuptials had flooded the tabloids and, to Edward's intense disapproval, even the front pages of his morning newspapers. Riza Hawkeye was an envied, hated, and admired woman.

"Sorry for the lack of invitation, but it was a very private ceremony."

"It was a last minute ploy to make you more electable." Ed crossed his arms. "Anyone with a damned brain could see right through it."

"That's a very cynical world view," Mustang huffed with a gleam in his eye. "But yes, I suppose that's the crux of it. What's your excuse?"

Expectations. Comfort. Understanding. Ed's arms uncrossed and fell to his sides. "This isn't the sort of establishment a member of parliament should be found in, is it, Mustang?"

"You're dodging the question," he drawled. "Quite skillfully, I might add. Have you considered a run for office, Edward?"

And Mustang, Edward thought wryly, had just dodged a question by bringing up _his_ having dodged a question, and as entertaining as it might be to verbally parry with the man, he needed all his energy to do so, of which he suddenly found himself quite lacking. "I'll save that for the professionals. Good night, Mustang. See you around."

"Back door's this way," the bartender called as he turned to leave.

Ed jammed his hands in his pockets. "I'm not hiding," he countered lightly.

As he walked home, he wondered if that were true.

* * *

Winry limped slightly as she perused the local bazaar. She'd been sitting at her workbench much too late, and now the sun had already set, her muscles were cramped, and she had nothing to cook for dinner.

She could just order take-out, of course, and was considering stopping by the Xingese restaurant down the street when she heard a familiar, whiskey smooth voice.

"Three pounds, please."

"Lieutenant Hawkeye!" Winry exclaimed, although she wasn't sure why she was so surprised to see the woman. If anything, it was astonishing that they hadn't crossed paths more recently.

The older woman, though not much older, Winry realized, only in her thirties, turned her head away from the fruit stand and smiled politely. "Miss Rockbell, how have you been?"

Winry opened her mouth to explain that she wasn't really a 'miss' or even a Rockbell anymore, but then she recalled that Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't really a lieutenant or a Hawkeye anymore, either, and how had she been? Well, really, that was quite a personal question, but she supposed that she was fine enough, at least business was quite brisk and she loved her job and that was a hell of a lot of apples.

"Oh, I'm in charge of making some pies for some fair or other, and I'm not exactly the best baker, so I thought I would do well to practice."

Winry slammed her mouth shut, and wondered just how much she had said out loud.

Hawkeye's...Mustang's?...eyes twinkled. "Just the part about the apples, although I must admit I'm curious to hear the rest."

Winry blushed. "I'm sorry, I've been working all day, and I guess I'm a bit peaked."

"It's quite alright, I understand completely. All of us night shoppers are in the same boat, I'd figure."

"I...I make a pretty good apple pie. I could show you, if you'd like?"

Hawkeye smiled, a wide, genuine smile. "I think I'd like that very much Miss Rockbell."

Winry had never seen the woman smile like that before, and before she knew it, she was grinning like a fool. "I think I'd like that, too, I mean...I, uh, love to bake, and I just haven't had the time...when do you need them ready?"

"Tuesday evening," she answered. "Perhaps you could stop by tomorrow evening, after work?"

They exchanged contact information, and Winry's head churned so quickly with her future plans that she didn't realize she'd returned home without dinner until she unlocked the front door of her house to discover her husband scavenging their cabinets.

He turned towards her with hopeful golden eyes, which narrowed unhappily at her empty arms. "I'm _starving_," he whined.

"You're home early." A pang of guilt knotted her stomach, but she pushed it ruthlessly aside and folded her arms across her chest. "You should have picked something up. Grocery shopping isn't just my responsibility, you know."

"Last time I went, you yelled at me."

That was true, she allowed, but only because he'd purchased the entire market. "Since when has that stopped you before?"

He grinned. "I don't know how we're gonna survive if we're both this lazy."

"Take-out," Winry smiled in return. "Or do you want to call for delivery?"

Ed offered her his arm. "Maybe the walking will take my mind off the fact that my stomach is digesting itself."

She looped her arm around his, and to any passerby on the street, they would appear to be like any other young couple. Ed caught her grimace and shot her a questioning glance.

She shook her head. It was nothing, really.

They were happy, in their own way, and that was all that mattered in the end.

She was happy.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sure, it's cheaper," Edward allowed through his teeth, "but the chemical properties of steel deteriorate in extreme heat...Well, Central gets plenty damned hot when it's on _fire_...Right...You could insulate it, but that's going to cost extra in supplies and manpower. I've got an iron and palladium alloy you could use...Palla- look, heat doesn't effect it..."

Roy listened to the young man negotiate prices, and hoped he wasn't dealing with one of his governmental housing projects. It wouldn't look good for his re-election campaign to go over-budget.

Edward carelessly tossed the phone down on the receiver and scowled at the interruption. "I'm a little busy, here, you know. Not all of us get paid to backstab and kiss babies."

"'Heat doesn't affect it', huh?" Roy sat down in a leather chair across from Edward's desk. "That's impressive."

"Oh, come on, Mustang. I know you've been out of the alchemy game for quite a while, but you should be able to figure this one out."

"You'd have to increase the atmospheric pressure by at least..." Roy went over the figures in his head. "...three hundred thousand."

"Mm-hm. Or I could just use something really strong to squash it together."

Roy stared at him a moment. "You transmute carbon into a diamond-like substance, and then you force the elements to mesh together in a chemically inorganic manner. That's...when did you come up with this?"

"Thought of it a few years ago fighting some humunculous. Of course, I was a bit busy then." Ed swung both legs onto his desk and grinned smugly. "The best part – my alloy is cheaper than steel, and it's fire resistant, and perfect for use in engines, automail, you name it."

"It certainly didn't sound cheaper."

"I have a family to feed."

"You have yourself to feed. Which, I'll allow, is probably the same thing." Roy stroked his chin. "Draw me the array?"

"Nope. And don't think you can just figure it out tonight and have some third-rate alchemist create the frame for your buildings. That shit is _patented_, you bastard. And don't you think about looking it up in the patent office later tonight and copying my technique, because I'll _know_, and I'll sue you so hard your little bastard grandkids will be broke."

"The thought never crossed my mind."

"Liar."

"Although I am surprised you'd set a price on the safety of those less fortunate than yourself. I'd imagine you'd donate the materials out of the goodness of your own heart."

"Uh-huh. So how over-budget are you?"

"Any savings we accrue could go towards lowering the future tenants rent, perhaps even go towards funding education centers and employment offices. "

Ed considered this for a moment, then grinned. "Not my problem."

"I never took you for a conservative, Edward."

"I'm just a man with a business to run." Ed stared at him from across the expanse of his desk, giving Roy an odd sense of deja vu. "Of course, perhaps I could be persuaded..."

Roy didn't even blink. "I can guarantee you at least ten percent of military contracts for the next three years."

"Last time I checked you were civilian, Mustang."

"I'm head of the military appropriations committee." God, did it feel good to hold the purse-strings for once. It was justice for spending the majority of his military career signing and resigning and finally down-right begging for supplies and mundane as toilet paper and paperclips, only to be subjected to an invasive audit. "We'll be going over civilian contracts next month."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest, what with your wife being a general?"

"You would think I could bribe her with some extra ballpoint pens and ammunition, but she's a very stubborn woman," Roy shrugged. "Although I'm flattered you suppose that I could in any way influence her decision making."

"You convinced her to marry your ass."

"That," Roy said, "was a mutually beneficial agreement."

_She's on his doorstep, in the rain, and if he didn't know her better he would think that she's crying._

_She's not crying, of course. She's looking at him with those sharp hawk eyes, clear and in pain, blazing with barely controlled fury. "They want to kick me out."_

_He lets her inside and takes her sopping wet coat and she stands in the hall, shaking. He pulls one of his other coats off the rack and wraps it around her to keep off the chill. He leads her to the couch, but she refuses to sit, and her boots squish as she paces. _

_Roy steeples his fingers underneath his chin. There is only one reason General Hawkeye would ever be removed from command, and that reason is one Colonel Maria Ross. He waits._

_"It's Maria," she swallows, hard, and continues. "You were right."_

_For once he hates being right. He stares at the mud tracked into his carpet without rancor, and __frowns. "Are there pictures? Witnesses?"_

_She chokes out a laugh. "Just Maria."_

_He turns this over in his head and realizes that he has faced heartbreak, despair, and crippling guilt, but that he has never been betrayed, mostly because of the fiercely loyal creature that is breaking slowly in front of his eyes._

_He doesn't know quite what to say, but he knows that if there is anyone he would do anything for, it is her, and so he pulls her down to the couch by her cold, clammy hand and hugs her tightly._

_It's the same as when she broke her father's prized laboratory equipment, and he'd sorted out the glass until his fingers bled in order to transmute it back._

_He brushes the wet hair away from her forehead and reassures her the only way he knows how. "I'll fix it," he says. "I promise."_

"Forgive me for thinking it might be more beneficial to the closeted politician."

Roy considered the accusation. "I'm a progressive man, and politics is all about building alliances. I was meeting with a loyal constituent, and far be it for me to avoid a certain location due to it's reputation."

"Uh huh."

"Are you certain you're not projecting, Edward? What were you doing there, and with a wife at home waiting for you?"

"She wasn't waiting for me," Ed snorted.

Roy considered that admission, and tilted his head. He'd never had hints that Edward had any sort of leaning towards his own sex, but, then again, Roy had never allowed himself to regard any of his subordinates in a remotely sexual light. He'd been far too ambitious at the time to ever risk his career.

Now that he studied the man, Roy could definitely pick up a vibe, although he couldn't attribute it to anything in particular. He asked, voice soft and all pretensions at bay, "Why are you married, Edward?"

"Because we were young and impulsive. Because I love her." Ed pushed away from his desk and scowled. "Why does anyone get married, really? And it's not like it's a big sacrifice, being married to someone you're friends with. It's nobody's damned _business_ that we're not like other people, that we...that we spend some time apart. We're _happy_, we're _content_, and that's all that fucking _matters_, you nosy-assed bastard."

Roy raised his hands in the air. "Fine, fine. I'm sorry I asked."

"You should be."

"Let me buy you a drink?" Roy suggested lightly. "We could go over some of the finer points of my offer. Which sort of military contracts would suit you, for instance, weaponry or construction or mech-"

"Forget it." Ed blew his bangs out of his eyes. "I've got to get home."

"Very well." Roy stood to leave. "Though I don't think your wife is waiting for you."

"How the hell would you know that?"

"Educated guess," Roy tossed over his shoulder.

* * *

Winry's calloused thumb brushed against Riza's hand as they stood side by side, cleaning apples at the sink, and Riza made no comment as the younger woman's apple flew out of her hand and into the sink with a loud crash. Winry flashed her a nervous smile, and bent to pick up the offending fruit, but she fumbled it with her fingers once more.

"Slippery," the girl muttered.

Riza Hawkeye took the unnecessary explanation in stride. She had become accustomed over the years to making others a bit uneasy. Roy had lyrically suggested once when she kept him in the office to finish his work that it was her eyes that did it, that they saw way too much and far too deeply; Maria claimed it was just the nature of the military that did it, in order to survive as a woman they had to become tough, and Riza herself just happened to be tougher than most.

Riza believed it to be her prosaic nature, the lack of artfulness that her father had so disdained. It was the reason he had never taught her the intricacies of his precious alchemy. It wasn't that she didn't possess the capability to process the raw information, to learn all the elements and their roles in the world; it was that she didn't have the vision nor the imagination to create anything with that knowledge. She had lived in the present, fully, since she was a child, and that is why she made such an excellent sniper, capable aide, and terrible wife.

She set her apple in the bowl on the counter and pulled another from the sack. It certainly was a hell of a lot of apples, as Winry had blurted out the night before. How did she let Roy talk her into these things? Certainly some of his mother's girls could throw together a few pastries. She still had dozens of reports to review...

"Um, Lieuten- ah, Mrs. Must –"

"Please, call me Riza."

Winry smiled shyly. "Riza."

Riza turned towards the girl with a slight upturn in the corners of her lips, and to her pleasure she did not look away to avoid her direct gaze. Her blue eyes crinkled in the corners and she smiled with a radiance that nearly made Riza blink.

"Thank you for inviting me here today. It's good to apply my hands to something other than automail for a change."

Practical Riza, who never daydreamed, was so taken aback by a sudden mental image her hands went slack. The apple rolled to the center of the sink.

"You too!" Winry commiserated. "It must be the wax."

Riza pressed her damp fingers against her eyelids and merely nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

Ed staggered to the door, fumbled with the lock, and then slammed the heavy oak threshold shut with all his might, which Roy Mustang's left hand found quite considerable.

The senator cradled his wounded appendage as he shouldered his way into the entryway. "Gracious host as always."

Ed narrowed his eyes. "I didn't _invite you in_."

"You're right, of course," Mustang said. His voice was bland and smooth and at it's most dangerous. "It's quite late. Too late, I would assume, and you yourself," he waved his throbbing hand, "demonstrated. Very late."

"Are you drunk?" Ed wondered. "Hit your head on the way here? Finally lost your mind?"

"Speaking of losing things, have you seen your wife today?"

"Yes," Ed growled. He had the bump on his head from using all the hot water in the shower to prove it.

"Have you seen her tonight?"

"She's probably working."

"Oh is she? This - "

"If you say late one more time I'm going to break your face just like I broke your hand, old man." Ed thought that if Roy clenched his jaw any tighter his teeth would break, and caught himself rubbing his own mandible in sympathy. "What the hell do you want, already? Obviously it has something to do with Winry, and obviously it can't be too serious if you can spend the entire night going on in circles about it."

"Your wife's in my bed."

"My w- " Ed raised both hands to his forehead. "Uh. Not with you, obviously."

"Not with me." Roy's shoulders slumped. "We don't even _share_ a bed. She usually takes the futon in the guest room. Do you think this happens often?"

"With Hawkeye."

"Oh, God, it does happen often. It does. I never should have told her what really happened during her training drills up north, but it wasn't like _this, _you know, the twins just needed somewhere to sleep, and I washed the sheets afterwards..."

"With _Hawkeye_," Ed reiterated, trying to make sense of the affair. "But she's terrifying."

Roy shot the alchemist a weary look. "You have _no idea._"

Ed stared at the other man for a moment as an awkward silence developed. Roy remained in the entryway, shoulders slumped, hand against his chest, his dark eyes flashing worry, aggravation, and amusement. "Uh. Did she say she was coming home soon?"

"I didn't speak to her," Roy said, head still tucked against his chest. "I saw that my room was... occupied, so I ran outside and peaked through the window."

Ed laughed.

"I'm glad you think this is amusing."

"I'm sorry, it's just the thought of you in that suit," Ed braced his hands on his knees and guffawed, "tiptoeing up to the window, trying to spy on Hawkeye without her shooting you in the face..."

Roy continued to stare blankly. "I take it you aren't surprised by your wife's latest extracurricular activities? Does this happen often?"

Ed's laughter dried up and his jaw snapped shut. "No. It doesn't happen often. But you don't look too concerned."

"I'm here in the middle of the night," Roy countered. "I've got a meeting with my aides early tomorrow. And my wife is dead-set on embroiling me in a scandal just in time for election season to begin."

"You just got elected."

"The prime minister race."

"That isn't for two more years." Ed paused. "Didn't you already run the damned country? Are you that fucking bored?"

"I did, yes," Roy smiled in remembrance. "I don't intend to run again, of course, merely give the illusion that I might decide to do so."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I have more influence over the party platform that way, and the more power and influence i can build, the more I can serve my constituents." He began to slowly flex his injured hand. "Now that I've given away my master plan, may I borrow your shower?"

"Get a hotel."

"Can't." Roy heaved a sigh. "That would make the papers."

"And this won't?"

"A married man can't have friends?" Roy's voice dropped an octave, and the bastard _smirked_. "Are you planning on anything newsworthy occurring tonight?"

Ed's ears began to burn. "Just- it's on your left, down the hall. And hurry the fuck up."

"I'll try not to keep you waiting."

* * *

Riza tilted her head sharply, which Winry could not do, because recent events had left Winry unable to do more than sink into the bed sheets and reevaluate her entire life.

"I think he's outside," the general murmured, and Winry began to hyperventilate. "It's fine. Wait here."

She was an adultress. She wasn't quite certain how they'd gone from apple pie to sharing a bed, but she was quite certain that Gracia had never intended her to use her apple pie recipe to seduce a married woman twice her age.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and she dove underneath the bed. The wood floor felt cold and smooth underneath her naked skin, but this didn't quite allay her fear of splinters, because really, what else could go wrong?

"Winry?" the general called out.

Winry heaved a sigh in relief. She pushed against the ground with her feet and began to wriggle back out.

She pushed again.

"Winry?"

She tried to use her free arm to grab underneath the edge of the bed and propel herself free.

The general heard her struggling and crouched down next to the bed. Winry flushed a bright red hue, and Riza smiled.

"I'm...stuck," she admitted, unable to meet her lover's eyes.

And for the first time she heard Riza laugh.

And when the woman helped her out from under the bed, and asked if she wanted to stay, she felt something tremulous and ebullient dance inside her chest, and she didn't know what it was but she liked it.

* * *

Ed grinned at the string of inventive curses that flowed out of the shower as the cold spray hit his nemesis. He fixed himself a sandwich in the kitchen, it was never too late for a midnight snack, after all, and waited on a stool in the kitchen island for Mustang to walk past, shivering and cold and miserable.

He walked past, in his slacks and nothing else, and a tiny rivulet of water cascaded down his smooth chest and into the groove of his abdominals, which were in decent shape for such a relic.

Not that Ed noticed or anything.

"I haven't had a cold shower since basic," Roy stretched. "I'd forgotten how invigorating they could be."

"Well, now that you're all invigorated," Ed cleared his throat. "You can get on out."

"So hospitable," Roy murmured. He reached his hand, the good one, not the one Ed had slammed into the doorjamb, and rubbed his thumb against the corner of Ed's mouth. "Mayo." He grinned. "I think."

The front door opened, and Ed felt a surprising flash of irritation at the interruption. "Ed! The front door's unlocked, you idiot! What the hell were you- oh."

Winry stood in the hallway, two pies in hand, with a blush settling high on her cheeks. "Mrs. Elric," Roy greeted her smoothly. "Good evening. You're home awfully late."

Ed's foot kicked the other man in the shin, causing him to hiss in pain. Winry looked at both of them for a moment, Ed, blushing and grinding his jaw, and Roy, half-naked and rubbing his leg with a scowl.

"I, uh, brought pie?"

The two men exchanged looks.

"Pie's good."

"I love pie."

* * *

Fuery shot Breda a look as Roy paced restlessly across the office. "I can't deal with this right now," the man complained. "I'm in personal exigency at the moment."

Fuery smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, sir. Idris' aide told me news is set to break before the parliament takes session tomorrow morning."

"Besides, it's not like you've been skimming off the top," Breda pointed out. "This could be an opportunity."

As if on cue, a series of knocks sounded against his door, and Roy waved at Fuery to sit back down. He opened it with a pleased smile. "Ah, Senator Idris. I've been meaning to go over the Hastings Bill with you. What perfect timing."

Senator Elena Idris considered him with a long, cool with her ice blue eyes before her aide, a mousy looking man with thick glasses, shut the

door. "When did you find out?"

"Just now." He gestured for her to sit. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, I won't be here long."

They sat next to each other in the red leather armchairs across from Mustang's main desk, because Roy didn't want to usurp the authority of the leader of his party, but also because Breda didn't look intent on moving his breakfast tray, dozens of newspapers, or chess board. "How many indictments?" Roy asked.

"Three. So far." Idris stared down the tip of her aristocratic nose at the junior senator. "You're not involved."

"Is that a question?"

"No."

"I appreciate your confidence, Senator."

"That doesn't mean you don't have anything else to hide," she continued. "I've heard the rumors."

"Rumors are part of the mystique," he returned with a smile.

"As long as they stay that way," she countered quietly. "You're a very popular man, Mustang. You'd be a fine candidate for Prime Minister."

"I've already led this country, Senator Idris." Roy steepled his fingers underneath his chin. "I'm content to fight for my constituents here in parliament."

"So you've said." Idris stood regally, and her assistant raced to the door. "You're an ambitious man, no matter what you might say to the contrary. It makes one wonder just where your ambitions are headed, hm?"

The door shut behind her with a soft click.

"I think she's on to you, Boss."

Roy rubbed his temples. "What's on the agenda this morning, Kaine?"

"There's a vote on the alchemical enhancement of agriculture, and then you're going to the apple fair down in Malga, and then you have a meeting with the plumber's union, and then back here to for a party conference."

"Malga?"

"Yeah, it's about thirty minutes north. I asked Hawkeye if she'd bake something," Breda contributed. "Thought it would soften her image."

"You asked my wife to bake?" Roy's mouth worked like a dying fish for a moment before he regained his voice. "To bake. With an oven. My house is gone. My Xingian rugs. My _books_." He gestured to Breda. "Give me the phone."

"I'm sure it's not that -"

"The _phone_, Breda, please. Thank you." He dialed frantically. "You guys go on ahead, I'll meet you in the chamber."

* * *

"Hawkeye," a clipped voice answered.

"Hello, darling," Roy drawled. "Is my house on fire?"

"Not yet," she returned sweetly. "I'll be there in a few minutes, but I can't stay long because I have drills to oversee. Do you need me to bring you a fresh suit? You ran out of here pretty quickly last night."

"I changed at the office." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah. You're doing laundry, right? I believe Monday is for bedding, sheets, that sort of thing."

"Mm. Speaking of beds."

"Yes?" God, he couldn't help himself. His voice dropped an octave.

"Could you take the futon for a bit? I've been having back problems."

"Oh, is that what you've been having?"

A dial tone sounded in his ear, and he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Riza huddled next to Breda and handed him a napkin as crumbs from her pie...well, Winry's pie, more like it...collected in the corners of his mouth. Her pie stand was newly constructed, and the smell of paint still clung nauseatingly to the cedar planks as the summer sun blazed against the country fair.

Breda inched towards her, and she gazed upward with a faint sigh and a wish that they could have found a larger umbrella.

Her husband, of course, appeared unaffected by the unbearable heat. He rocked on his heels in an animated discussion with Malga's mayor as Fuery hovered nearby, sweat forming large rivulets upon his brow.

"He certainly seems invigorated this morning," Riza murmured to her old colleague cautiously.

"You don't sound too thrilled about that."

"That's because Roy responds to impending catastrophes with the same glee most people reserve for party planning."

Breda grinned around a mouthful of pie. "Huh. Now that you mention it, he was a bit riled up this morning, railing about some personal life implosion, and in his office suit, to boot. Guess he didn't make it home last night?"

Riza shot her husband an evaluating glare, to which he responded with a raised eyebrow and quick wink. He'd yet to do anything other than obnoxiously hint at the knowledge that she'd had _someone _over the night before, thankfully, though that certainly didn't imply that this was the limit of his knowledge. Roy preferred to play his cards close to his vest, even with her, which she hoped would gift her with enough time to sort out for herself just how in the world she'd found herself in bed with a woman almost half her age.

Well. She knew the _how_ part fairly well, in fact she'd been reliving that portion of the evening fairly frequently over the past few hours. It was the _why, _and more specifically the _what the hell now_ that was leaving her flummoxed.

"Speaking of impending catastrophes," Breda cleared his throat. "Twelve o'clock."

"This is very domestic," a smooth, delicate, and infuriatingly familiar voice tore through Riza's thoughts like a rampaging tank. "I'm almost jealous."

"Maria." Her voice remained cool and even, but beneath the cover of the pie stand her clenched fists trembled. "Good afternoon."

Maria took a step further, until her hip rested against the wooden planks, and crossed her arms. "All that trouble to keep your rank. I suppose it does make you a unique asset to the Mustang propaganda machine."

"Hey, now," Mustang interjected softly, "I thought breaking a girl out of jail would earn a little more loyalty." Maria's back stiffened as he continued, "All things considered, of course, I can't see why I'm surprised. Would you like to leave on your own accord, or are you up for a scene? It's been a few days since I've made the tabloids, so a scene is perfectly acceptable to my...propaganda machine, was it?"

Maria tightened her jaw. "I will always be grateful for your intervention, Col- Senator. But this has nothing to do with you."

"My wife has everything to do with me," Roy countered coolly, "and I won't have you harming her reputation, or anything else, ever again."

"Roy." Riza cleared her throat and scanned the fairgrounds. Thankfully most of the patrons were too involved in the revelry to focus on the minor scandal unfolding underneath the pie booth, but she lowered her voice anyway. "Maria, there's really nothing left to say with regard to this matter, especially not in public."

"This matter?" Maria scoffed. "This matter is _that I love you_ -"

"If you'll excuse me," Riza swallowed compulsively as her throat tightened mutinously and squeezed past Breda to exit the booth, "I have drills to oversee."

"Are you happy, living a lie like this? It's a _uniform_, Riza, not a penance for whatever you might have done decades ago. It's okay to be happy!"

Riza nearly faltered in her steps. No amount of penance could atone for her actions in the war, she wasn't enacting a karmic payment plan, for god's sake. Was she?

"That's quite enough, Miss Ross. Breda, could you please escort Miss Ross off the premises?"

Riza's mind turned in on itself. Or was she simply afraid to take the uniform off? Years before, she had implored Roy to break the bond between her and the destructive alchemy her father had destroyed himself to create, in order to become Riza Hawkeye in her own right.

Was this all she was?

"Senator Mustang! I'm with the Central Review, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"

Breda stopped in front of Maria, who smiled serenely at the larger man, daring him to truly make a scene. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glowered.

Roy shared a quick glance with Fuery that implied he had been expecting a press ambush, and Riza decided that the crisis he had been anticipating all day had finally broken the news. "Certain-"

The reporter, young, with thick black frames and an excited quiver in his voice, interrupted. "What is your official stance on the Xingian emperor's demand for the extradition of Alphonse Elric, as well as the emperor's direct appeal to your Xingian heritage?"

It was a rare sight. Roy studied the cracked pavement for a moment, apparently lost for words. Fuery stared at Breda, who glared at the sky, as if blaming some deity, and she wondered if Breda were at all religious. She'd never asked.

"Did you know?" Maria whispered.

Riza shook her head.

"Well." Roy cleared his throat. "That's quite the exclusive. Your editor must be proud."

"Thank you, sir. Your thoughts?"

"I haven't been briefed on this situation, but my thoughts are of course with the people of Amestris and their best interests."

"And it would be in the Amestrian people's best interest to protect the brother of the People's Alchemist or to extradite him, Senator?"

"If you'll pardon me, sir, I believe I need to return to my office, and my wife needs to return to work. Have you tried her apple pies, by the way? They're delicious."

"Is it true that your mother -"

"Thank you," Breda interrupted, "but the Senator is a busy man, as you can see. If you'll speak with his aide, here, we can arrange for an interview at a later date?"

Roy appeared nonchalant, but his fingertips dug into the groove of her elbow as they walked to the car. "Well," he allowed once they were safely ensconced inside, "this has been a hell of a day. Your new girlfriend didn't mention if she was planning on harboring a fugitive last night, did she? Though I suppose that doesn't count as pillow talk."

Riza resisted the urge to blow at her bangs in frustration. So much for time to process. "That didn't exactly make it into conversation, no."

"Didn't think so." Roy rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand, clearly irritated, but beneath it all Riza thought she could see a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Very well. We'll drop you off at headquarters, and then I think I'd like to pay a social call to a certain ex-subordinate."

"Idris is going to want to speak with you asap," Breda commented lazily.

"Then she should have pursued this conversation much earlier, don't you think?"

"Maybe she's using press ambushes to keep you on your toes, in preparation for your prime minister run."

"Prime minister run?" Riza choked out.

Roy slouched against the seat and sighed. "I suspect this is going to be a very long car ride."

* * *

"Good morning."

Ed pressed his forehead against the telephone receiver with a repressed growl. Repressed, because although the bastard hadn't managed to master the art of _knocking_, he was also wearing that bland, creepy half-smile reserved for barbecues of the gruesome sort. "It's well past noon, Mustang."

"So it is." The smile widened, and Ed's heart skipped a beat, but he couldn't be certain if that was attraction or self-preservation or some really disturbing combination thereof. He set the phone down into it's cradle mid-conversation and waved at Roy to begin.

Roy tilted his head. "Is there any reason why Ling is trying to force your brother back to Xing for a trial?"

It hadn't been attraction or survival instinct, after all, Ed concluded. It had been practice, because his heart had now completely stopped.

"Either you really didn't know, or you are somehow shocked I would find out. Where is he?"

"Xing." Ed ran his hands through his hair violently, not caring in the least that his hair band tumbled to the floor in the assault. "At least, that's where he was a week ago. He's been studying their medical alchemy."

"No problems?"

White hot anger blazed from the depths of his stomach to his flashing gold eyes, and Ed couldn't hold back a snarl. "Do you think I'd be at a goddamn _desk_ if my brother was in trouble? You dipshit."

Roy looked away from him towards the window, and if Ed didn't know the man any better he would think he looked...tired. "No. Of course not. That's why I immediately assumed you were somehow involved."

"Of course. First sign of an international incident and of course you assume I'm involved." Ed gestured at his project laden desk. "Because I have so much time on my hands."

"As I recall, you never needed much time to cause any kind of incident." Roy almost sounded fond. "But I'll be certain to add Alphonse to my list of usual suspects."

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

"I presume you mean Ling, and the answer to that is no. I still need to coordinate...what are you doing?"

"I'm calling that rat bastard."

"No, you aren't."

Ed picked up the receiver and began to dial. "Oh, yes I -"

Roy slammed the phone down with a loud click. "We've just discussed your propensity for international incidents, yes?"

Ed attempted to pull his hand away, but Roy's held it firmly against the phone. His hands were soft, Ed noted absently, even for a bureaucrat. "Al could be in danger."

"Alphonse can take care of himself, evidently, seeing as how he's somehow evaded the entire Xingian Empire. Besides, do you really think Ling would hurt Alphonse? He's using him for some political leverage, and as soon as we figure out exactly what he's trying to accomplish, then we'll defuse the whole situation."

Ed thought grimly of Prime Minister Armstrong and her current policy of aggression with the north. "And if certain parties don't want to defuse this?"

"Edward," he murmured softly. The hand covering his gave a light squeeze. "I'll fix this."

Ed exhaled roughly and tried to ignore the flush suddenly overcoming his body. Of all the times to be attracted to someone completely inappropriate, it had to be when Al was likely smuggling himself across a brutal desert, with perhaps little in the way of provisions or directions. "And if Al makes it to Amestris?"

"We're not handing him over," Roy assured him flatly. "That isn't an option."

"Even if it means war?"

"It won't." Roy grinned, a bit off-kilter, almost as if he were trying to cheer Edward up. "I'm fairly talented at diplomacy, you know."

Ed frowned for a moment, not because the man with whom he had undoubtedly argued the most with over his life so far was claiming excellent negotiation skills, but because, "Your eyes, up close. They're almost kinda...blue."

Roy looked completely taken aback for a moment before he doubled over across the desk. He laughed so hard he knocked over Ed's stapler, which cracked apart in a violent collusion with the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry," he gasped, "Ed, but you just..."

Ed tucked his newly freed hand against his chest and scowled. "It's just an observation, you bastard. I think they're ugly, anyway. The freakish color just triggered my tendency towards scientific observation."

Roy covered his mouth, but his grin was larger than his hand and his eyes crinkled in obvious mirth. It was not cute. Not sexy. "You're such a liar."

"You're such a narcissist."

"I think you're eyes are pretty, too, Edward." He coughed to cover a laugh, the bastard. "Especially when you're in denial."

"My eyes are not _pretty_," Ed grumbled. "I'm not a damned schoolgirl."

"You sure sounded like -" Roy stopped himself, and Ed thought that there might be something to that diplomacy claim after all. "In any case, please let me know if your brother shows up. No public lines, please."

Ed nodded. He might not trust the government one whit, but he trusted Mustang, for whatever that was worth. "Yeah."

"And don't do anything rash."

"Uh-huh."

"You could lie a little better than that. I know you can, because you've done it to my face."

Ed shrugged. "Was there anything else you needed, Mustang?"

The older man seemed to consider this seriously for a moment, and Ed became unusually aware of his heart rate. "No," he finally allowed, "not today. My construction sites are still on budget?"

"And fire-resistant," Ed couldn't help but contribute smugly. "And my military contracts?"

"Would probably go a lot more productively for you if my construction projects were overseen diligently and with attention to budgetary constraints." Roy turned to leave. "Seriously, Ed. Just give me time."

"Yeah," Ed agreed. He'd give him time.

Time to drive back to his office, after which Ed would raise whatever hell required to keep his brother safe.


	5. Chapter 5

Roy nearly choked on his tongue as he opened the door to his office to discover the Prime Minister herself with her military boots propped against his desk.

He narrowed his eyes. Muddy boots, at that. Given the lack of rainfall over the past week, and given she could walk across the damned backs of her subordinates should she encounter so much as a puddle, he could only assume this was a direct act of purposeful aggression.

He smiled pleasantly. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Armstrong crossed her arms. "Cut the shit, Mustang. What sort of deals have you been carrying on with Xingese officials, and just why the hell shouldn't I have you charged with treason?"

"Consider it cut," he lifted his chin. "That desk is antique Aerugan oak, so get your dirty feet off it. If you have anything to charge me with, then you can do so in a court of law _that I helped establish."_

She snarled at him, but then again she _always_ snarled at him, so it was difficult to judge her true disposition. Roy also noted that her feet remained in their abhorrent position. "Alphonse Elric is a valued member of our society, and I will not allow him to be caught up in your backdoor machinations."

"As much as you might like to think," Roy said, his voice betraying his exhaustion, "that I am some sort of political mastermind, I have too much on my plate at the moment to sell out a country I killed and died for, much less endanger Alphonse Elric of all people. I don't even know why the hell Ling Yao wants him deported."

Icy blue eyes studied him with blatant dislike. "He's accused of kidnapping a member of Yao's court – a concubine of sorts, I suppose."

"Al's not exactly the kidnapping kind."

"No," she agreed. "Although he might do so under the influence of a certain bastard we all know."

"I had nothing – "

"Speaking of bastards," she continued, "it has come to my attention that your mother fled Xing while pregnant. Also a concubine."

Roy raised his eyebrows. "My mother was a...working woman, yes. But I can assure you she was never a participant in any sort of royal Xingese circle."

"That's not what the Emperor believes." Armstrong tilted her head. "According to His Highness, you are his closest living relative in Amestris, and he refuses to deal with anyone else. So congratulations, you've now been appointed my Xingese relations minister."

"If I refuse?"

"At best? Xing begins funneling weapons into Drachma and we begin war in earnest. At worst a country ten times our size invades. Either way your wife is on the front lines, and that's a damn promise."

Roy bit back a retort and glared at the wall. His mother had always been a bit of a fibber...not that he could ever blame her, looking back on her circumstances. He could certainly find the appeal in telling oneself that she used to be royalty, instead of the daughter of a peasant who fell in love with a traveler and wound up in a foreign country, bereft and alone and selling her body to feed her children.

He'd believed, thanks to her imaginative interpretations of her life, that she'd been a famous dancer. His ears still burned when he recalled the first night that Madame Christmas had taken him under her wing and he'd asked to see the stage. He'd been seven at the time...and damned if she hadn't shown him.

"My wife serves you of her own volition, and she is certainly more than capable of taking care of herself."

"She's a much better soldier than you ever were."

He couldn't hide a wry smile at that. "We all have our talents. When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. You'll travel to Xing and deal with the Emperor personally, and you'll take the other Elric with you. I don't even want to imagine what sort of insanity he'd cause without direct supervision."

Roy raised his eyebrows. "I can't very well order a private citizen to accompany me outside the country, you know. What if he refuses?"

"I resort to Plan B, go to war, and blame you for the fall-out." Olivier blinked languidly. "I'm certain that won't be necessary, hm?"

* * *

Ed smashed his face into his palm and cursed his lack of linguistics skills for the fourteenth time that afternoon. "I need to speak with the _fucking Emperor. _ My name is... the Emperor. _Em-pe-ror. _I'm Edward Elric...._E..L..R..I..C."_

"Fuery disconnected your phone. You've been speaking with him for the past," Roy checked his watch as he closed the door behind him with a flourish, "two hours now."

Ed's left eye twitched as he struggled to repress his murderous rage long enough to actually help his brother. "What did you find out?"

"You look stressed, Fullmetal." Roy smiled as he savored his former subordinate's title. "How would you like to take a vacation with me out East? I hear the women are quite beautiful...although that isn't quite your thing, is it now?"

The young alchemist's hands slammed into fists before the full implication of Roy's words connected with his brain. "What?"

"We leave tomorrow. Prime Minister's orders."

Oh, he was a bastard all right, Ed thought ruefully. But he was a handsome bastard, with ample resources. "I'm going with you. To Xing."

Roy smiled.

"How the hell did you organize this?"

Roy's cocky facade faltered a bit, and Ed felt intrigued despite himself. "Old family connection, apparently. But go ahead and bring that fake passport you had that black market man make you earlier today, because it might come in handy if we get in over our heads."

"...Do you have me under surveillance, Mustang?"

The senator's smile curved lazily, and Ed's breath caught in his throat for a moment before he reminded himself just how much he loathed the man in front of him. "You're a difficult man _not _to notice, Edward."

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Ed looked away. "What time tomorrow?"

"Oh nine hundred," Roy sang. "And pack something pretty."

* * *

"Ling's threatening to arrest Al?" Winry slammed her wrench against her workbench and flung around to face her husband. "I'll _kill _him first."

Ed eyed her tools warily, even though her temper was focused elsewhere at the moment. "I'm going with Mustang to Xing. There has to be something else going on that we don't know about." Like Greed finally assuming full control of Ling's body. As if he hadn't dealt with enough humonculi to last a lifetime. "But I need you to stay here, in case Al's already made it across the desert."

Winry's lips pressed together in a tight line. "Of course. You save the day, and I wait around. Because that's all I could possibly be good at, right?"

"Al's gonna need your help, okay?" Ed blew his bangs out of his face. "If he does show up, I don't want anyone else to know. I don't trust the government not to deport him if things get hairy."

"So you want me to aide and abet a fugitive?" Winry's lips curved into a small smile. "That's more like it."

Ed returned the smile. "And you weren't just waiting around, you know? You were holding us together, every time we faltered. We never would have succeeded without you."

Winry stared at the floor for a moment. "You never feel like I'm holding you back?"

"From what?"

"From...everything. That we settled when maybe we shouldn't have?"

"Winry..." Ed sighed and sat next to her on the bench. "You're my best friend. I would do anything for you."

She blinked away tears and smiled brightly at him. "Of course you would. You have. And you know I feel the same way, but..."

"But?"

"That isn't love. It's love, of course, but it isn't...it isn't your heart slamming against your chest, butterflies in your stomach, lost and found in someone's arms love. And I don't want to ever keep you from that, just because I'm afraid of what my grandmother might think of me."

"Is this about General Hawkeye?"

She bit her lip.

"Oh, Winry." He hugged her sadly.

"I know...I know she probably doesn't feel the same way. And that this is all too fast. I haven't even had a chance to speak with her lately, and of course she's married to Roy..." her eyes gazed up at him hopefully. "Are she and Roy...?"

"They're a lot like us, I think," Ed worded his answer carefully. "She's almost twenty years older than you, Win. Wouldn't you rather be with someone your own age?"

"Because that worked so well with Paninya," she countered softly. "People can hurt each other just fine without any age difference, Ed."

"I know that."

"How?" She questioned. "You've never really been in love, have you?"

Ed sucked in a breath between his teeth. "I never really had the time."

"And now you're stuck with me."

Ed hesitated a moment. "If you want to tell Pinako, I'm sure she – "

"No!" Winry shook her head violently enough to nearly slap him in the face with her ponytail. "You didn't see her reaction to Paninya. She's all I have left, Ed. I'm not going to lose her over some...over this. But you're not stuck with me just because – "

"I'm not stuck with you, period," he replied. "Got that?"

She forced a smile. She always did. He loved and hated that about her. "Yeah."

"Good." He cleared his throat. "If Al shows up, I want you to call this number, ok? Leave a message for me, tell Fuery that the electric bill is higher than normal. Okay?" He slipped a flimsy piece of paper into her palm, and she nodded resolutely. "I'm going to bed. Come home with me?"

"Yeah."

They walked home together, hand in hand, for the first time in months, but this didn't ease the anxiety gnawing in Ed's stomach. He'd just gotten Al back, damn it, and he knew that his brother was more than capable of taking care of himself, but there was always that wriggling worm of doubt that would sneak into his mind and leave trails of worry throughout his thoughts.

No, he hadn't been in love before, and if it meant worrying about someone nearly half as much as he did about his brother, he was glad for it.

Edward Elric had no time for love.

Al looked across the tent to the sleeping figure at his right, and then back at the ceiling. He hated missing out on sleep, considering the years he'd lost to complete wakefulness, but she needed rest much more than he did, given her condition.

He still couldn't quite believe this was really _happening_. Not even a week before he'd been studying at the finest universities in the land, and now he was sleeping in a tent with a woman he barely even knew, really, risking everything because he knew what it was like to be trapped.

The snort of a camel sounded outside the tent and her eyes opened silently. Al watched in wonder as several throwing blades smoothly found there way to her hand, all with no discernable motion. She nodded to him grimly, and his stomach clenched in anticipation.

So they'd been found, finally. And the fighters were no doubt just as skilled as she, and without an unborn child to protect.

_Ed is never going to forgive me for this_, he sighed inwardly before he nodded back.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry for disappearing for a few months! Real life decided to intrude on my fantasy time, but I think I've beaten it back. :) On the plus side, it gave me time to plot out the story, instead of writing on the fly, which I am admittedly not the best at doing.

Thank all of you so much for all of the feedback! I intended this story to be character-driven, plot-heavy, but still fluffy and fun, and hopefully I'm keeping the tone even. Of course there will be some smutty goodness along the way, but it's all unwinding in its own time...which will hopefully be quicker now that it's cold out and I have my own place now and can dedicate myself to providing you with the odd machinations of my mind. :)


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Ah, sorry again for the delay, guys. Evidently laptops break when you drop them, who knew? But I am laptopped up again, thanks to my birthday, and I have a lo-ong chapter for you all. Also, I keep getting comments on the character's ages, and I appreciate the feedback, so I'd like to clarify the ages as much as possible. It's set 6 years after the end of the manga, which I estimate Roy's age to be approx. 31, Riza's to be 29, Ed to be 17, Winry 17, and Al 15. If that's wrong please let me know!! That makes them all currently 37, 35, 23 and 21 respectively. To clarify: Riza is obviously not twice Winry's age, it's hyperbole on both women's parts due to the decade of age difference. Also, as of 102 this story is officially an AU. I knew there was a risk writing a post-manga story so close to the end :P. _

_Sorry about the length, btw. Once again, this is a total work in progress, and while I know where I want the story to go I very much value any input, especially in regards to story flow, characterization, and (my big weakness) description. Thanks, as always, for reading.  
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Ed shifted uncomfortably in the caravan and glared at his traveling companion. The senator sat on a silk cushion in between two impeccably dressed women who giggled with one another as they kept him cool with exquisitely designed paper fans, and he couldn't look more pleased. When Ed had complained at the special treatment, the older man had smirked. "I'm a member of parliament, Ed. Naturally I need protection against the harsher elements."

"You couldn't fund a road?" Ed grumbled. It had only been two days since they'd begun their adventure, but Ed had never been a patient man, and Al's predicament did not improve his demeanor.

He tried not to think about the ransacked campsite they'd passed the day before.

Fortunately Roy Mustang did what he did best, and distracted him by being a complete asshole. "Because if we've learned anything from recent events," the man drawled as a girl loosened his tie, "it's that we should make it easier for a huge country with a vast army and land-hungry dictator to reach our soil…especially while we frantically rebuild diplomatic ties with such friendly nations as Drachma and Aerugo."

"Ling wouldn't invade us," Ed growled. "There's got to be something else going on."

"That may be," the senator murmured, eyes flickering softly to the Xingese girl's ample cleavage, "but it would probably be best to refer to him as Emperor Yao, especially once we reach the palace."

Ed ground his jaw. Ling had been snooty enough before he'd assumed the throne, but Ed had known him when he was nothing more than a mooching son of a bitch, and he'd be damned if he was going to refer to the former leech as anything else. "He'll be lucky if I don't punch him in the jaw – "

Before he could finish his sentence one of the girls with the fan had a knife at his throat. "I'd strongly recommend," her accented voice growled into his ear, "that you accept your friend's advice and refer to our His Excellency in a more respectful manner."

Roy sighed. "It's as if you're _allergic_ to my advice, even after all these years."

Ed could alchemize the blade into something harmless in less than a fraction of a second, but the other girl eyed him balefully. He remembered his brutal fight with Ling's former body guard with a slight shudder. If these women were half as skilled as Ran Fan, then it would be one hell of a fight.

And Mustang didn't seem eager to help, either.

Bastard.

This left Ed with one other option. The words almost stuck in his throat, and he spat them out like milk. "Fine. Sorry."

These women were obviously only there to keep tabs on them, but instead of ditching them as Ed had first desired, Mustang seemed intent on keeping them as close as possible. The woman resumed her position next to the senator and blushed when he playfully reprimanded her.

"That wasn't very diplomatic of you," the jerk purred.

Ed muttered cursed the traitor under his breath, but when he turned to gaze out at the desert, he caught Roy covertly tucking a glove into his pocket as he tapped the girl's nose.

_Sneaky_ bastard, Ed amended.

* * *

At high noon the caravan pulled over to allow the camels respite from the sun. The light screamed against Ed's tightly closed eyelids, and he hit the ground beneath him. He'd slept in many uncomfortable places over the years, but the desert was his arch-nemesis, even without the auto-mail baking his body.

The flap of his tent opened, and he made an inhuman groan. He needed _sleep_, damn it, and he was either facing another attack from Ling's royal guard or a lecture from Mustang on proper etiquette, and he wasn't really certain which he dreaded most.

"You are _really_ testing my patience, Fullmetal," Roy hissed.

Ed tugged his unbraided hair in frustration. "Damn it, Roy, I haven't slept in two fucking days. Can we save this chat until – ah…"

Roy's mouth crashed violently against his own, but the kiss was soft, almost reverent, and before Ed could rationalize the oral assault he had already twined his arms around Roy's neck to pull him closer.

Their tongues entwined and every slight, playful ministration of Roy's tongue against his own sent shocks of pleasure dancing down his spine and pooling in his belly. When Roy finally pulled away Ed rubbed his lips absently, trying to ease the surprising sense of loss they felt.

"You sit there, across from me," Roy panted softly, "without a shirt on," Roy's lips began assaulting Ed's neck with soft, wet kisses, and Ed's fingers clenched the man's hair, "and it's all I can do not to lick the beads of sweat from your stomach."

"That's…." Ed gasped for breath, "…really gross."

"Mm." Roy's tongue swept across Ed's abdomen in a firm stroke and Ed pulled the man up for a deep, frantic kiss. Their teeth nearly clanged together as they pulled one another closer, and Ed made a shocked sound of delight as Roy's length pressed insistently against his own.

"Fuck," he muttered breathlessly. If he was honest with himself, which he usually was once he'd finally exhausted all modes of denial, he had been attracted to Mustang for quite some time, but even in his most shameful dreams he had never imagined giving in to his desires would feel this _good_. "Fuck," he whispered again, and Roy's breathy laughter tickled his neck.

"That's the general idea," the man whispered, "although your vocabulary, as usual, could use some refinement."

Ed opened his mouth to insult the man, but Roy slipped his soft hand under his boxers and all he could do was gape soundlessly for several moments. Roy kissed him as he rubbed his thumb across Ed's slick tip, and Ed hated himself for his strangled groan when the man smirked in satisfaction.

Ed retaliated, and Roy's confident façade faltered as quickly as he shed his pants.

The second most attractive (and the single most infuriating) thing about Roy, Ed mused as the man bit into his shoulder, was his complete sense of _control_. Ed realized this as he discovered that he could make Roy lose said control, make his dark eyes glaze over with desire and his breath hitch impatiently, and that it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

Ed twisted his hand on the down stroke and nearly came when he saw the lost, needy expression across Roy's face. He moved his hand faster, and Roy responded in kind, quicker and quicker, and as Ed's muscles tightened in anticipation he tried to stop himself, to make Roy lose control first, and it wasn't until the man muffled a shout of release against his shoulder that Ed finally let go.

Roy slumped against him in a sweaty, sticky heap, and despite the heat Ed couldn't find the energy to push him away.

"I, uh," Ed felt a blush enflame his cheeks as Roy studied the man beneath him as if he were a science project. "Huh."

Roy pushed away with a sigh and used one of Ed's shirts to wipe himself off. "You should be able to sleep a bit more soundly now. It's difficult to adjust to sleeping in the day, especially with the sun so hot."

Something in Ed's heart inexplicably twisted. "Well, thanks for the favor, Mustang. I'm glad you could make the sacrifice to keep me in optimal condition." He ripped his shirt from Roy's hands.

Roy didn't meet his eyes. "I…this wasn't a…damn it, Ed."

Ed frowned. He'd never heard Roy scramble for words before. Of course, he'd never had Roy come apart in his arms before, either, so perhaps today was just the day for new experiences.

The older man looked uncharacteristically vulnerable for a split second before his face schooled itself into the implacable mask Ed knew all too well.

It reminded Ed of another time, years before, when he'd sat in the passenger's seat of Roy's government issued car and realized as he'd held on to the man's petty change that his commanding officer, once so remote and perpetually in control, was just a man. He was just a fragile, flawed, determined man.

"I apologize," the man said quietly as he buckled his pants. "This was not my intention."

"There's nothing to apologize for." Ed shrugged with forced nonchalance. "We were horny. It happens. No big deal."

A smile flickered against Roy's lips. "I said that to someone, years ago, in the desert, too. It wasn't quite true then, and it's not quite true now."

"I never took you for the romantic type, Mustang."

Roy refused to take the bait. "Get some sleep."

He closed the flap behind him, and Ed scowled at his retreating figure for several minutes before unwillingly following his advice.

* * *

Evening approached, and Ed indulged in a brief sponge bath before sliding into the caravan, where Roy refused to meet his gaze and the two girls blushed violently.

He rubbed his face with a soft sigh. "How much longer?"

"Three more days," the guide called back from in front of the caravan, in a tight, embarrassed tone.

The girl who hadn't held a knife to his throat earlier looked as if she would like to do so. The perfect person to make jealous, he thought, a knife-wielding maniac. "Great," he showed his teeth in a feral grin. "Just fucking fantastic."

He could feel himself blushing as the camels began pulling them towards Xing, and he consoled himself with the fact that even Roy looked a bit embarrassed, although when the man had developed a sense of shame he would never know.

It didn't matter, he decided, that he was now officially on the most awkward road trip in the history of travel, because all that mattered was talking some sense into that damned Xingese emperor and bringing Al home. He would go through rings of fire and doors of truth for his brother, he would have his limbs ripped apart and he would fight to the death to save him.

He could handle a little embarrassment.

The girls whispered something in Xingese and snickered behind their fans, and the guide laughed heartily.

Roy kept his gaze pointedly towards the vast expanse of desert, and Ed sank into the bench.

"I hate all of you," he announced to no one in particular and one man in particular and really the entire world except for Al, and maybe a little bit towards Al, too.

The women just laughed.

* * *

"The first place they'll expect us to go," she explained as she sharpened her blade, "is to someone affiliated with you."

Al studied her profile in the cheap motel room. Her face, though strong, was pale, and he noticed her hand trembled a bit as she tightened her grip on the blade. Her shoulder, he knew, because he had used his limited knowledge of healing alchemy to keep it from _falling off_, was severely burned, and she faced possible infection. "You need a doctor," he repeated.

Her face remained impassive. "We can't risk such foolishness now."

"Pinako would never turn us in," he tried again, in the same tone of voice he used to lure stray, skittish kittens. "We're almost near her, now. I could call her from a pay-phone."

She shook her head. "I appreciate your concern. I will be fine."

Al played his trump card. "You can't fight effectively if your automail is damaged. We'll leave as soon as she fixes you."

She wavered. "We should wait at least another day…"

"No." Al pressed his lips into a firm line. "The baby…"

"The baby," she echoed softly. "Your Pinako is likely under surveillance."

_I'm counting on that_, he thought, as he asked, "Would you rather call on someone we don't know and can't trust?"

She remained silent, and he held his breath.

She was, if possible, more stubborn than his brother, but Al had nothing if not patience. She nodded, once, and returned to sharpening her blade.

Al released his breath in a rush. "Thank you," he said.

She frowned. "You are a strange man, to be thanking me after all this."

"I was a tin can for several years," he replied wryly. "I'm sure strangeness is just one of the many side effects."

She nodded seriously. "Perhaps that's it."

Al smiled despite himself. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Please don't pull any ninja moves and vanish on me, okay?"

"I don't suppose I would be able to go very far," she admitted quietly, and a small twitch of a smile flashed across her lips.

"I think you could probably do anything," he admitted. "Please stay?"

She nodded, and he started for the door.

"Alphonse?"

"Yes?"

Ran Fan looked him in the eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

Winry's wrist shook as she poured Riza another cup of tea. "You're not going to turn him in, are you? If you find him?"

"Officially," she admitted without hesitation. "Unofficially I am to relocate him until Mustang's negotiation is complete."

They sat together in her grandmother's kitchen, and Winry fiddled with the tablecloth. "I…trust you, General."

"Please." Riza's voice softened. "Call me Riza."

"Riza," Winry smiled slightly, before looking at the woman from beneath her lashes. "I trust you."

Riza held her gaze, and Winry smiled when she noticed the woman's cheeks tinge pink. "Thank you."

Winry hadn't seen her since she'd spent the night at her house and fled the next morning, and she was embarrassed how suddenly her heart had skipped a beat when she'd opened her grandmother's door to find Riza standing in full uniform.

It wasn't as if she hadn't expected her to show up. Since the boys had lost their mother, there had been only one place they called home. Winry had known in her bones that if Al was able, he would contact Pinako. Of course Riza would know that, too. She'd been entertwined in their lives for a long time.

"I remember," Winry said, "the first time I saw you. I brought you tea in the foyer."

"You were angry," Riza said.

"I was scared," she corrected, "but you put me at ease. I'm the same age you were, then, aren't I?"

Riza laughed, a short, rare sound. "A little older, actually."

Winry continued, softly. "I thought your earrings were so pretty. Isn't that such an odd thing to remember? But I did. I insisted Grandma Pinako take me to get them pierced days after you left."

Riza looked like she wanted to say something, but Pinako burst through the door with a handful of groceries. She shot the general a look and set the bag down on the counter. "Al isn't here."

"Granny," Winry admonished lightly. "The general is here to help."

"Yes," Pinako mused, "the military is always such a big help."

"Good afternoon," Riza greeted Winry's grandmother formally. "I am sorry to intrude, Mrs. Pinako. Please let me know if you contact Alphonse. I promise I will protect him."

Riza stood to leave, but Pinako waved for her to sit down. "That slop they serve at the hotel is no dinner. You'll eat here."

"Mrs. Pinako, I appreciate the offer, but…"

The short woman's gray eyes pierced the through the general's steel façade, and Winry watched in amazement as Riza appeared to back down. "My I help prepare dinner, ma'am?"

Pinako nodded, pleased. "That's more like it." She glared again. "And if you even think about turning our Alphonse in…"

She left the threat unfinished, and Winry smiled to herself. Riza looked like she was facing a drill sergeant. "Here, general," she nodded for Riza to join her at the counter. "You can peel the carrots."

Riza sent her a look of gratitude as she approached.

* * *

Ed nearly ripped the flap of Roy's tent as he entered the next day. "They know."

Roy studied the furious blond man with a silent sigh. He had known this rant was coming since their entourage had made it quite clear that they suspected that the men had been having more than a conversation together in their tents, but anticipating an event didn't make it any more enjoyable.

"Yes." Roy folded his arms behind his head and leaned back down. "Of course, now they think you can't get enough of me, since you rushed straight here."

"You. Bastard." Ed growled.

Roy valued his life, so he did not smile. He looked up at the snarling mess of rage before him and his breath caught in his throat at the thinly veiled desire contained in golden eyes.

_Well. This is certainly inconvenient_, he inwardly frowned.

A one-time, impulsive fling with Edward was one thing. He'd entertained the notion since he'd realized it was a possibility, but had rejected the notion just as quickly because he had a feeling Edward Elric did not do clean and casual.

He had a feeling, a strong feeling, that Edward Elric was a force of nature on par with tornadoes and earthquakes, and if just looking at the younger man was any indication, he might not survive the encounter.

"You don't have anything to say?" Ed asked, roughly, and Roy struggled to convince himself that his mouth felt dry due to the low humidity index, not because of those damned eyes focused on his lips.

"Ah, I…" Roy forced himself to look away and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ed. I promise it won't happen again."

"Good."

The fire faded a bit from Ed's eyes, and Roy hated himself for that, but if he had taken the man up on his unspoken offer…he sighed as Ed left.

It was all too reminiscent of another desert in another time with another man he couldn't have.

He draped his right arm across his eyes, and like every time he fell asleep he prayed he wouldn't dream.


End file.
